


Light My Cigarette

by forest



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: M/M, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9785366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest/pseuds/forest
Summary: You're Yuto Kurosaki and the boy you had a crush on is attending the homecoming dance with... someone who isn't you. That's fine. That's alright. That doesn't bother you any, at least not as much as the company you're forced to keep tonight in his stead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There is a serious lack of Yuto/Yuri content. I apologize if my depictions are a tad OOC. Also I needed to give Yuto a last name so he's Shun's brother. Whoops.

Your cigarette hangs limply from your mouth, unlit and sad-- sadder than you are. The echo of mainstream pop and funk reverberates off your skull and leaves you feeling empty in the head and sick to your stomach. This far away from the dance, no one can find you; no one could, except for the boy that had followed you here.

“Hey,” Yuri chirped in that voice he had, always conveying some faux sort of sympathy.

“What do you want?” you ask, internally wincing at how scathing it sounded.

As much as you could use some company though, you weren’t certain you were so low as to find it in the snake beside you. Yuri, who drove you and the one you loved apart-- the self seeking, self satisfied, cold eyed and sharp tongued bastard. The more you thought on it the less nasty you felt for answering him so boldly. You’re almost annoyed that his attitude does not wane as he plops down beside you.

“You’re sat here all alone. Can’t I come give you some company or is that a crime now?”

The goth (you, unfortunately) regards him disdainfully, the corners of your mouth looking more and more like crooked picture frame edges over a sharp jawline.

“Not particularly,” you say plainly.

“Not like that cigarette in your mouth. That’s plenty illegal for our age,” he says.

“It’s not lit,” you drone.

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Yuri jeers, and it isn’t long before he’s produced a stick of his own and stuck it between his chompers; lighter follows lead and he’s got a lit cigarette in his lips.

You try not to feel jealous.

Yuri blows a ring of smoke out, like he’s trying really hard to be cool.

You really try hard not to feel jealous.

“So, you see Yuya’s new boy?”

Your heart snags against those words and you visibly cringe.

“He’s not ‘new.’ They’ve been friends for a while,” you suggest.

“Yeah but, he’s not you, so,” the shorter boy mutters, the cig flopping aimlessly as he talks and ashes decorating his pants like glitter.

Your first idea is to brush it off of him and you aren’t sure why. As much as you hate the asshole sitting beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the delicate pinks and purples that glow gorgeous under moonlight. Yuri has a sort of unpolished beauty, like a wild garden. It’s the best thing you can think of to describe him when his porcelain doll skin is contrasted by those ugly, unsightly eyebrows that somehow perfect his face, closing it off just right. They attract your attention.

They attract you.

“You’re staring,” Yuri says sluggishly.

“I want to know why you’re here,” you level with him, as if it’s not a _complete_ lie.

“I told you, I’m--”

“Here to give me company, yeah. I don’t believe that. You’re here to rub it in.”

Yuri gazes down at his feet and lifts his body up from the curb with each palm of his hand pressed on either side of him, and he scoots closer to you. Your hips are touching now and he sticks his face out to yours. His hand graces your face.

Now, instinctively, your reaction is to shove this guy the hell away from you but when you notice the tip of his cigarette butting against yours, you pause and watch as a miracle takes place. Yours lights up and takes ash and you suck a deep breath in of your favored poison. It tastes like you think Yuri does. He pulls back from you. He then snatches the side of your cheek and yanks.

“You’re awfully pessimistic, aren’t you?”

He seems genuinely galled before that smile of his makes a reprised-- half lidded eyes and all.

“You really don’t believe anyone would be kind to you.”

His hand was so warm and now it stings. Gently, more than you probably should be with him, you pluck his fingers off your face and exasperatingly gawk.

“I really don’t believe _you_ would be kind to me.”

Yuri’s grimace reeks of pity, you think.

“You really are salty, and boring. I wanted to have a little fun but I can see you’re all soggy and worn in,” he mutters more to the moon than you.

“Leave then.”

In the midst of this you take care to notice the hand you’re still holding and let it go. Yuri instantly uses that hand to flick off his cigarette before turning toward you, right knee bending and splaying flat against the grass.

“You’re the one I want,” he breathes.

“I don’t care.”

“What?” Yuri asks, and honestly you’re asking yourself the same thing, both of him and of yourself.

It was such an instinctual answer. You didn’t have time to even think about it. The prospect of him wanting you is so foreign and against everything you’ve thought of him, it doesn’t feel like anything less but a fever dream.

“Do you think you have a say in the matter?” he boasts.

“Do you think I don’t?” you ask, earnestly curious.

“I’ll make you fall in love with me,” he sweet talks, badly.

It’d work if you were one of his kind-- his snake charmer wiles, you mean.

“You can’t be serious,” you say.

“I am. I’m a regular cupid. How do you think I got Yuya to fall for ol’ blondie.”

You squint.

“You can’t be serious,” you repeat.

“I am,” he also repeats. “Haven’t you realized that yet?”

This time when he leans in closer, he’s pulling the cigarette from his lips and you don’t like that. He breathes it in your face and you flinch under his gaze. He’s giggling and the smoke jostles out of his nose like a dragon.

“I set them up so I could get to you.”

You think he’s kinda crazy. He’s got the sort of eyes you’d call crazy eyes. They’re full of light and deep like a vast emptiness. You think you could fall for a few years inside of them. As much as Yuri is physically attractive and oddly charming, you still can’t quite understand what it is that he likes about _you_. It’s too peculiar. It’s why when he leans in to probably kiss you you’re turning to the side and his mouth connects with your cheek.

“That’s manipulative,” you think to say, and when you do he simply snickers.

Showing him your cheek didn’t have much effect. He’s nuzzling his face into it. Your face heats up. You’ve never been this close to another person before and you don’t like that it’s him.

“That’s not a nice way of saying it--”

“Cut it out,” you interrupt, shoving his shoulder and gaining a look of surprise from him; his eyes are like big round dinner plates.

You’ve never seen him so… innocent looking before. It’s freaking you out.

“Hey… I’m so--” you go to say, before he starts cackling up a storm. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he confesses. “You’re so melodramatique, spelled with a Q-U-E instead of a C.”

You’re positive even he doesn’t know what that means.

“All I did was set up two people who already liked each other. If that’s what passes for manipulation these days the bar is set _awfully_ low for real villains.”

“Yes but, you did this so that you could get to me,” you address.

“Pffbt, you find me incapable of charity work. I’m offended,” he says, completely unoffended.

Your own cigarette hasn’t been flicked in quite a long time. A hefty block of shivering ash hangs floppy from your mouth until you empty it onto the concrete. In doing so, you notice that the music far off in the distance at the dance has waned into a slow dance. It’s faintly audible over Yuri’s voice. He’s been saying something.

“Are you listening?” he asks, too perfectly.

“Not particularly,” you admit, and you think that’s at least the second time tonight you’ve said that.

You lift your knees enough for you to press your elbows into. His chin comes to pause on your shoulder.

“Yu-to-Ku-ro-sa-ki~” he murmurs into your ear.

He’s way too close. Your hand swats back at him instinctively like a fly in your ear.

“Would you _stop?”_

The frustration in your voice should be enough to tell him you aren’t interested but still he’s sat here like you’ve got something he wants.

“You don’t want to be all alone, do you?” he starts in with. “After all, the boy you had a crush on is spoken for now.”

“I never had feelings for Yuya,” you fib.

“That’s a lie,” he instantly asserts.

“Even if I did, what makes you think that I would suddenly bed you?”

Yuri leans away from you, lifting both of his hands up in an annoying display of surrender.

“I never said anything about sex, Yuto.”

He’s sighing and you can’t help but feel agitated that _he_ gets to do that.

“You’re so boring when you act like this. You always act like everything is an act of life and death. You’re so emo. I can’t just sit next to you and enjoy your company. I can’t just light your cigarette--”

“You never just light someone’s cigarette unless you want something from them,” you interject.

For a second you think you’ve injured that infamous ego of his. His face faults for a split second. The side of his mouth has a line in it that doesn’t resemble a dimple. It drags until he laughs.

“Ha, you’re right.”

You feel bad.

“But, what I want from you is free and painless.”

You might not feel so bad depending on what he says next.

His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

“Remember when you saw me in the bathroom last month and I told you not to tell anyone what you saw there?”

The memory comes to mind and you realize you’ve seen that look in his eyes before. It’s the same stare he had back then, only… his eyes were gummed up with tears and his mouth was quivering so much.

“You’d been crying.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he brushes off. “I uh, had just been, dumped,” he says in a few inarticulate pauses.

To be frank, you have no idea who Yuri was dating and you realize you honestly don’t care either. You want to know what this has to do with you.

“You could’ve ruined my reputation, told everyone, but you didn’t.”

A beat.

“Is that it?”

“You could’ve been cruel to me, but you weren’t. All I ever did was torment you and your stupid little friends-” “Thanks.” “-and you were compassionate.”

Yuri stares away from you, suddenly losing all interest.

“Never mind. I thought you might understand that sort of thing, but it seems I’m just embarrassing myself.”

When he stands up you feel the cold air brush against the top of your palm. It’s then that you realize how comfortable it’d been when his hand was linked with yours. The cigarette that had been drooping from his jaw all this time finally drips onto the pavement. He squishes the embers out with the toe of his sneaker and you aren’t sure what to make of it. For once you think that you’ve seen some side of Yuri you normally wouldn’t have. When you think he’s going to storm off, he takes a few steps from you and turns to flash you a devilish grin.

“That’s alright. I’ll just make you understand, in my own way. Try not to be too lonely in the meantime, goth boy.”

There’s something, comfortable about the sentiment and you take a drag from your cigarette before giving a simple two-fingered wave; it’s to seem chill and like you don’t care and you’re positive it works.

You aren’t aware of your racing heart until he’s gone and the air feels so much chillier.


End file.
